My dry-drunks come in the form of busyness. I stretch myself thin, and to make up for the lost time, I start cutting out my serenity. The second I get a full plate, I tend to take back the reins and start driving the cattle myself. I mean, we shouldn’t be bothering our Higher Powers with the mundane, day-to-day, I-should-be-past-this-hurdle-by-now stuff, right?
Step 3: made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.
For me there seems to be three kinds of existences: busy, lazy, and alone, each with their own specific judgement: good, self-pitying, and destructive. And this is where the dry-drunk can become so cunning, baffling and powerful.
I immediately take back the one thing I need to give up in these situations: my control. It’s all fine and dandy around the tables when everything’s rolling along without the potholes and bumps, look everyone – no hands!, but when things get serious, that’s when me and my will snap into action. When it’s all free-and-easy and then all of a sudden bang! and I register fear, my hands instantly clamp down onto the handlebars and I begin preparing myself for a controlled slide off the road and into a gravel ditch, damning myself for ever attempting high-power-pilot. I abandon the idea of letting go. I take back what’s mine: my resentments, my judgments, my anger, my paranoia, my self-loathing. These are the beliefs and emotions that twist my everyday thoughts into a ridiculous caricature of how I think an everyday person lives an everyday life.
Today, when I’m working the program, I can see the ridiculousness in my basic nature. When I’m not working the program, and when I’m taking back control, I’ll defend that ridiculous, harmful, misguided, hateful behavior until the cold, bitter end. That’s because I’m ashamed that my way isn’t working, and it’s super-obvious to everyone. Once again my pride has brought out the worst in me: self-debilitating, self-sabotaging, self-fulfilling prophecies of dystopian futures.
Once again, I need to ask for help, and turn it over. The dry drunk will linger as long as I don’t.